


Bitten to the Quick

by earlybloomingparentheses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Trains, unsettling spookiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlybloomingparentheses/pseuds/earlybloomingparentheses
Summary: Strange times on the Hogwarts Express.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.2





	Bitten to the Quick

**Author's Note:**

> Written for R/S Fireside Tales 2020 for this [prompt](https://youtu.be/69O0GM0k_Mg), which is ten hours of train sounds.

Dark circles clustered under his eyes, looking like bruises, like he had lost a fight with sleep. To be fair, he had. In the sky were clouds that also looked like bruises, and as he stepped into the station, the heavens rumbled, readying for battle. A jagged knife-slice cut through the clouds and rain poured out of their split-open bellies. Remus ducked his head and hurried inside.

The platform was as yet sparsely populated. Remus had wanted to avoid the crowds of passengers saying last-minute goodbyes. The train had arrived, though, gleaming scarlet, and he climbed quickly onboard, avoiding whatever curious looks students and their families might or might not be casting in his direction.

It was quiet in the corridor. Muffled, almost. He could no longer hear the rain, which had been faintly audible even given the high ceiling of the station. Maybe it was the thick carpeting on the floor, or the layers of memories of the thousands of students who had ridden the Hogwarts Express, that kept the sounds of the weather and the noise of the platform at bay. Remus breathed a sigh of relief at the silence and solitude, for a moment entirely soothed, and then frowned slightly as he heard—thought he heard?—some unidentifiable sound from somewhere down the corridor. It was—familiar? Maybe? It was—maybe—not _quite_ like someone crying out.

It cut off, quite suddenly, making Remus wonder if he’d imagined it. He shook his head and peered into the nearest compartment. It was empty. He opened the door, hefting his suitcase onto the rack above one of the seats. Then he turned to greet the person sitting opposite him. He blinked, staring at the unoccupied compartment. There was no one there. There never had been.

 _More tired than you realized,_ he thought to himself. He sat. He fingered the velvety fabric of the seat, a small worn patch near his leg, only slightly worn, less worn than the knees of his trousers. Their thinning fabric was worrying. Mending charms didn’t stick long anymore. He’d used them there too many times before.

The minutes ticked by. Remus drifted, looking out the window, resting his forehead on the glass. Muggles hurried past on Platform 9. Briefcases, rolling suitcases, backpacks, nappy bags, parcels; umbrellas, wellies, scarves, hats, jackets, ponchos; a laugh inaudible through the window, cross words exchanged silently, a mouthed conversation over train tickets, somebody presumably shouting, sweet nothings before a kiss, a faint sound that might have been a cry…

He could hear the rain again. His eyes were heavy. He was having trouble focusing on the scene outside so he turned his head, resting it against the back of the seat and blinking slowly at the seat across from him. Surely plenty of students had gotten on the train, now, but it was still so quiet. He hoped his compartment would remain empty. The rain grew louder. He rested his eyes for a moment.

He wrenched them open—how much later? The train had jerked into motion and that had woken him. Or not; it was hard to tell how long they had been moving. Remus’ heart was pounding, at any rate, as if he had been startled awake. He was no longer sleepy. The rain kept up its steady rhythm on the roof, not quite in step with the more insistent rhythm of the wheels on the track. The lamps were lit, casting the compartment in a warm glow, and outside the day was gray and wet. Remus thought he ought to have been able to tell how far they were from London from the view outside the window, but he couldn’t. That bothered him slightly.

He got to his feet. He felt that there was something in the corridor he needed to see. Perhaps it was evidence that the other compartments were now full of children, and whether the witch with the food trolley was trundling along, and whether he could hear anything besides the rain and the incessant noise of the wheels if he poked his head outside. He slid open the door. The corridor was just as quiet. There was no one in sight.

Remus stepped out of the compartment. He felt himself jostled slightly by the movement of the train as he made his way down the corridor, one hand on the wall to steady himself. Maybe if he found the source of that noise he’d heard earlier, he would find another person. The compartments he passed all had their blinds drawn. He made his way into the next carriage.

“Oy!”

The sound broke the silence like a clear, ringing bell.

“Remus!”

James Potter was sticking his head out of a compartment at the end of the carriage. He was waving, too, with his typical enthusiasm.

Remus blinked a couple of times and then walked toward him.

“We didn’t see you on the platform! You must have gotten here early. Why didn’t you come and find us? Peter’s mum sent him off with a whole box of jelly slugs, we saved a lemon one for you but you’d better come eat it fast because Sirius has been eyeing it up…”

His chatter continued until Remus stood face to face with him. James stepped back and let him inside their compartment. Peter waved hello. Sirius looked at him, half a jelly slug hanging out of his mouth.

Remus blinked. Sirius slurped up the yellow slug, a quick, obscene sound, and grinned. Remus blinked again.

“I told you not to eat his!” James said to Sirius.

Sirius produced another yellow slug from behind his back and presented it to Remus.

“Wanker,” James said, as if speaking for Remus, and slowly, Remus reached out and took the sweet from Sirius.

“You didn’t wait on the platform for us,” Sirius said as Remus sat across from him. He said it cheerfully, but Remus felt a guilty squirm in his stomach. “Ashamed of being seen with such a motley crew of misfits?”

A vision of Walburga and Orion Black, looming like gargoyles on either side of Sirius’ small frame, swam into Remus’ mind. “No,” he said, finding his voice with some difficulty, as if he’d misplaced it back in his old compartment.

“Do you want another slug?” Peter asked, thrusting a large open bag under his nose. “My mum bought so many.”

The bag was absurdly full, stuffed with gleaming jelly slugs, garish greens and medicinal reds and violent oranges. Remus shook his head.

“How’s the furry little problem?” James asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Full moon’s in two days, isn’t it?”

At these words, Remus’ elbows spasmed and his hips began to ache, as if his joints had needed the reminder to mark the proximity to the full. “I’m fine,” Remus said automatically. He stuck his hand in his pocket, idly searching for the bar of chocolate he kept there, but he couldn’t find it.

“My turn to sneak into the hospital wing after,” Sirius said.

Somehow that didn’t sound right. Remus searched his mind for the memory of who had done it last, in the spring, but he was disturbingly unable to remember.

“I—” he began, but a noise from the corridor cut him off. He turned his head sharply to look. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” James asked, but Remus was already on his feet.

“I just need to see…”

He opened the door of the corridor and stepped out. When it closed behind him, everything was muffled again, save for the rhythmic metal chugging of the train and the rain falling lightly on the roof. He looked both ways, but he didn’t hear anything. He stepped towards the next carriage, and then whipped his head around as something—was it sound or shadow that alerted him to it?—slipped past behind him. But when he looked there was nothing there. The corridor felt colder, though. Or maybe that was just the rain.

He walked through to the next carriage. It was silent, too, but seemed a little brighter. He paused by the door of a compartment and then, instinctively, went inside.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” said Professor McGonagall. “Good. Have a seat.”

He sat. “Why—?” he began, head rather fuzzy.

“Yes, I understand that meeting on the train is a bit irregular, but I wanted to warn you before you arrived. The Ministry—” and here her nostrils flared ever so slightly “—is sending a representative from the Department of Magical Creatures to assess our precautions for your transformations. They will be at the castle when we arrive. Of course we have assured them that the system has been working just fine for years, but they insisted on checking up for themselves.”

Remus’ stomach knotted and curled. He twisted his fingers together. He could almost see the claws at the ends of them.

“Professor Dumbledore has insisted that he or I be present when they are interviewing you,” Professor McGonagall said. “You won’t be on your own, I promise.”

Remus looked out the window at the darkening sky and steady rain. The water streaked down the glass, droplet after droplet splattering and then dripping, over and over. The train passed through an empty station, and the world outside was briefly lit by the sterile glow of fluorescent lamps. Remus stood abruptly, heart in his mouth. There, on the station platform, dark and erect under the fall of rain, sat a wolf.

It was gone before he could make sure it was there, or call Professor McGonagall’s attention to it. Heart in his throat, he hurried back out into the corridor. He walked rapidly onwards, as if he could catch or avoid the wolf (he wasn’t sure which) if he added his speed to that of the train. He staggered, though, as the carriage went around a bend in the tracks, upsetting his balance. The lights in the corridor flickered. Still stumbling, Remus thrust out an arm to steady himself, and somebody caught it.

“Whoa, there,” said Sirius. His eyes gleamed in the darkness. The lights returned to full again, and Sirius pulled Remus to his feet. His face was handsome and hair artfully mussed, and his hand was warm on Remus’ arm.

“Sirius,” Remus said, and there was something confusing happening here, but Sirius leaned in close and Remus’ thoughts slipped away.

“Careful,” Sirius said, breath warm against Remus’ ear. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before we even get to Hogwarts.”

Sirius put his hand on Remus’ chest and Remus breathed in, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ve fucking missed you,” Sirius growled, and slid his hand lower, resting it just above Remus’ belt. Sirius leaned in and kissed him. His mouth was hot, so hot, against Remus’ cold lips, and Remus let himself be kissed, let Sirius reclaim him. Sirius sucked Remus’ upper lip and put his tongue in Remus’ mouth as if he could get it all the way down Remus’ throat if he tried and licked Remus’ jaw and bit his lower lip—

Remus pulled back with a gasp. There was blood on Sirius’ sharp, sharp teeth.

Remus stumbled backwards, through the door into the next carriage, and through the corridor and into the carriage after that, in frantic throat-squeezing haste. The rain was leaking through the ceiling here, somewhere, and Remus felt it dripping cold onto his forehead. He tried to catch his breath. Then he heard the sound again, that not-quite-crying out.

He turned, trying to determine where it had come from. He opened a compartment door at random, and then another, a bit frantic now. They were empty. He opened a third, and stopped short.

A stag was standing in the compartment, looking at him.

The stag huffed, pawing its hoof against the ground. It made no move to come closer.

Slowly, reverently, Remus shut the door.

The lights were out in the corridor. He groped his way in the darkness, the occasional drop of rain spattering onto his head. He thought, maybe, that something had started growling behind him.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he whispered, but he had forgotten that they had taken his wand, snapped it in two after—after—and the corridor stayed dark, so dark, and the growling grew louder.

He felt something scuttle past him. No, not past him—it went over his feet on tiny fast paws, and then with sharp small teeth bit him in the ankle.

Remus gasped. He felt a rat’s tail brush against him as the creature scurried away.

His ankle throbbed. His head spun dizzily. He slid to the floor. There was pain in his ankle and in his lip. He was slumped against the wall of the carriage and he couldn’t get up. The train rumbled on beneath him, the movement of its wheels rocking him steadily as he sat there. _Have to move_ , he thought hazily, _hospital wing_ , but his body didn’t cooperate. Tree branches whipped against the windows, loud as lashes, and Remus felt them rattle the train.

Then something grasped him by the hand and dragged him roughly into a compartment.

The window was open inside, letting the rain pour in. Remus felt it hitting his body and felt his clothes grow damp as he was dragged through the puddles on the floor. The door to the compartment clicked shut behind him. Sirius lifted his leg over Remus and straddled him, gaunt face illuminated just enough by the light of the nearly dark sky outside for Remus to see his sharp jutting cheekbones, his straggly hair, his yellowed teeth. Sirius’ bony body pinned Remus to the ground. His wrists, ringed with black tattoos—runes and strange long lines—were thin, but strong enough as his hands clasped Remus’ own weak wrists, pressing them against the floor.

He pushed his pelvis against Remus’ and Remus gasped. He was cold on the hard floor and his hair was growing damp as it lay in the pooled rainwater. Something was behind Sirius, but Remus couldn’t tell what. Sirius pressed his crotch to Remus’ again. He was hard, and so was Remus, so much so he was almost nauseous with it. Flashes of light pulsed behind Remus’ squeezed-shut eyelids as Sirius rutted against him and shivery bursts of heat fanned out through his body. It was improbable, impossible, this shocking warmth, the liquid intensity of this feeling, Remus didn’t know much but he knew he hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and he held his breath as if to hold in the feeling and Sirius rutted and rutted, feral, animal, and Remus’ body spiked hot hot hot as he did.

Remus fluttered open his eyes, on the edge of orgasm, and a dark figure loomed behind Sirius, its hand around his throat.

Remus screamed. All at once the lights went on. The window was closed. There was no rainwater on the floor or the seats of the empty compartment.

Remus got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled out into the corridor. The lights glowed softly golden and the only sounds were the rumble of the train and the rain on the roof.

He walked back the way he had come. As he walked, the corridors remained empty and quiet, save for the occasional slithering out of the corner of his eye, lumpy something-or-others in garish greens and medicinal reds and violent oranges. Remus realized, with growing certainty as he went, that he was walking toward the wolf. He could not see it, but he knew it was there, back in his first, empty compartment, where his suitcase sat on a shelf above the worn velvety seats.

At long last, he arrived at the door. He slid it open. Inside, the wolf watched him. Remus stepped forward, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he and the wolf simply stared at each other. Then it cocked his head, and Remus got to his knees and pulled back his collar, exposing his bare throat to the wolf’s teeth.

But as he felt the creature’s breath hot on his skin, he heard something: not the strange noise, but the noise of voices. They were accompanied by a cold, creeping sensation, sneaking up Remus’ spine, chilling him to the bone.

_—looking for—_

_—not here, I’m here—_

_—ouch!—_

“Quiet!” Remus said suddenly, and his eyes flew open. Blinking sleep rapidly from his eyes, he held out his hand and charmed into being a cluster of bright flames.

There was Harry Potter, looking just like James. He was not alone. Other children with frightened eyes stood around him. And in the corridor, something dark was approaching.

“Stay where you are,” Remus said hoarsely. He got to his feet. He walked toward the door.

It opened of its own accord. For a second, Remus thought he would see the wolf, or, worse, the gaunt and wasted Sirius Black with sharp, sharp teeth—but there was something else out there.

Harry made a noise. It sounded involuntary, and not quite like a cry.

Remus raised his wand.

Harry slumped to the floor.

The Dementor extended a scabby hand.

Remus summoned the image of Sirius with half a jelly slug sticking out of his mouth, and then said, forcefully, “ _Expecto Patronum!”_


End file.
